


Should Have

by WickedLilThing



Series: The Lady of Winterfell [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A bit of Arya bashing, F/M, Fix-It, Reunion, s07e06
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedLilThing/pseuds/WickedLilThing
Summary: Sequel to "Into the Fray" but could be read alone.Sandor and the rest of the Magnificent Seven return to Winterfell to regroup before executing the rest of their plan.  Sandor reunites with someone from his past he missed dearly.  He's now determined to protect them at whatever cost.





	1. Chapter 1

“Lady Stark? Your brother has returned with the Targaryen Queen and other guests.” Maester Wolken told Sansa, who sat at a desk pouring over papers. 

“See that they are taken care of. I’ll be there to greet them in a moment.” She told him before turning back to her work. Sandor step through the doorway, blocking the light from the hallway. Sansa looked up at him and covered her lips as she gasped. She stood up and came over to him. She looked like a woman now, truly. The woman in front of him had fought for where she was and it showed on her face, in the way she held herself. 

“Is it really you?” She asked, her unsteady hand reached out to touch him. She placed her hand on his chest and let out a breath she had been holding. “You’re really here. You’re alive. I thought I was dreaming again.” He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Dreaming of me, my lady?” He teased her. She swatted his chest.

“Don’t tease me. It’s not nice.” 

“As you say, Lady Stark.” She gave him a bright grin but quickly composed herself. 

“I have to greet my brother. I’ll have supper brought up here and we can talk.” She gave him a once over. “I’ll also have someone find you some suitable clothes.” He laughed.

“I doubt you’ll find anything that fits me.” 

“Then I’ll have something made for you or make you something myself.” She replied. He liked the idea of wearing something made by her own hand. “I’ll return shortly. Make yourself comfortable.” She told him before she left. 

Sandor sat down in the chair by the hearth, trying to warm himself. The last time he truly remember feeling warm was on the bank of the river after he met the Brotherhood again. That felt like ages ago now. He settled in as best he could and shut his eyes. 

He was dozing when the Little Bird flitted back into her solar. She was arranging the food on the table when he opened his eyes. It wasn’t extravagant. He would bet the dinner in the great hall wasn’t either. They needed to ration, even this early in the winter. Never-the-less, he was grateful to have warm food. He gave her his thanks and sat down across from her. 

“What happened to you after the Blackwater?” She asked. He told her the entire story. From his capture by the Brotherhood, the trial by fire, her sister, the Twins, the Eerie, Septon Ray, rejoining the Brotherhood, and marching north. She shared her own harsher, more violent recent past as they finished their dinner. By the time she was done he was furious and pacing the room. He was going to run Littlefucker through with a sword and strangle her bitch sister. Sansa watched him pace. 

“I’ll kill him. I swear it.” 

“If he tries anything, please do, but in the mean-time don’t do anything I can’t undo. I need his army.” She told him. “We’re done talking about this for now.” 

“Fuck the army!” Sansa gave him a stern look and went to sit by the fire, two goblets of wine in her hands. She nodded to the chair next to her and he took it. “You get out of King’s Landing and end up with those twisted fucks. You might have been better off staying married to the Imp.” He said as he took the offered wine from her. 

“I should have left with you.” Sansa told him with a sigh as she took a sip of her wine. 

“There’s no point in crying about it now. I was too drunk to take care of you anyways. I would have gotten us both killed.” Sandor replied. “Besides, we’re both here. That’s the only thing that matters at the moment.” Sansa gave him a queer look that changed into a smile.

“You’ve changed. For the better. I think you and Jon are the only people left that have.” Sansa confessed to him. “I hear you met a dragon.” 

“Ha! Yes, and nearly shit myself. It was fucking terrifying. Big, fire breathing bastards.” Sansa’s eyes went wide. For a moment he thought she was shocked by his language. He thought she got over such things and he was about to comment on it when she started to laugh. It startled him. He hadn’t heard her laugh since the first time he saw her at Winterfell. 

“I wouldn’t doubt that.” She replied and poured them more wine. She smiled. “I missed you, Sandor.” Sandor stilled, his goblet halfway to his mouth, surprised by the use of his given name. It must have shown on his face because she reached out and took his hand. He laughed bitterly.

“You missed me frightening you? Trying to scare the life out of you? I enjoyed scaring you. I wasn’t a knight from your songs, Little Bird. I was—”

“A killer? I know. You made that very clear. I’m a killer, too.” Sorrow swelled in his heart. That wasn’t what he meant at the time. That wasn’t what he had hoped for her. She was supposed to marry some lordling cunt. Give him children. Bored out of her mind and never having to worry about anything more than what lordling cunt her daughters would marry. Not what had transpired. He couldn’t think about what had happened to her without feeling blind rage. His mind stopped racing when she squeezed his hand. “I had a lot of time to think since King’s Landing. In that time, I’ve come to realize that you cared for me. That you scared me because that’s the reaction everyone has ever given you. You didn’t know what to do with me so you settled for what people have always given you. You scared me because you were angry you cared about me. You were angry because I was foolish and had no knowledge of the real world. You tried to teach me, in your own way.” Well, he thought, she wasn’t exactly wrong about that. “It wasn’t your scars that scared me. Well, in the beginning it might have been, but it was your anger that scared me the most. That went away. You were less angry around me. You were angry with him and his family. Not me. Then I became scared of what he would have you do to me.” 

“I never would have!” He interjected. He tried to pull his hand from hers but she wouldn’t let go. He didn’t resist. 

“I realized that. After that, I wasn’t afraid. I quite liked you, actually. Even before the Bread Riots. I was afraid of what he would do to you if he found out. He enjoyed destroying everything that brought even a hint of a smile to my lips. I should have left with you but…I was scared of leaving the castle during a battle. I could smell the fire burning from inside the holdfast.” She grimaced at the memory of the sky glowing green and the screams from the battlefield. “I was scared of being caught on the road and both of us being executed. I didn’t want to see you die.” Sansa confessed. “I prayed for you the night of the Battle of Blackwater. I prayed for you the day before, to the Old Gods and the New when I told everyone I was praying for Joffery. Did you know that?” He didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t worthy of her prayer. He was sure he hadn’t been in anyone’s prayers for a very long time.

“I should have done a better job protecting you.” 

“I should have done a better job at being honest with myself and with you. I should have done a better job communicating with you.”

“You hardly said a word unless that little shit king spoke to you. Even then it was always as short as you could make it.” 

“I think I spoke the most to you and my handmaiden. Willingly, at least.” She grinned. “I didn’t know you watched me that closely, to remember how little I talked.”

“I listened to every word you said.” He said earnestly. “I watched you when ever you were in eyesight. I watched you more than him most days.” He looked down at her small hand in his and stroked the soft skin on the back of her hand. “I missed you too.” 

“I dreamt of you on my wedding night to Tyrion.” His head shot back up to look into her face to spot the lie. She was open and honest. “I dreamt of you at the Eerie. I thought I was dreaming when you stood in my doorway. I dreamt of seeing you again so often. Sometimes, the only comfort I had was seeing you in my dreams. I missed you so much, Sandor.” 

“This is some mad dream. I’m still on that damn rock with your brother and that ginger cunt about to die, aren’t I? Just my fucking luck.” 

“Stay.” Sandor’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked into her eyes. The Lady of Winterfell looked so weary and yet so hopeful. He wasn’t dreaming. The Little Bird was standing in front of him, her warm, living hand in his own. “Stay with me. I trust you. I missed you. I can’t lose you. Not you. I’ve lost Bran and Ar—Arya’s made me her enemy. I can’t. I can’t let you walk away again.” He didn’t have a home. He didn’t have any allegiance but to the living. Staying by her side and keeping her safe was more than he could have hoped for. “Brienne has gone to King’s Landing. I’ll be needing a sworn shield.” 

“Aye, Little Bird. I’ll stay.” Her face lit up and pulled him into a hug. 

“Truly?” She asked, her voice watery. 

“Truly.” He replied when he recovered from the shock of having the Little Bird in his arms. He wrapped his arms around her. Holding her tight. Surrounded by the scent of her. The feel of her. Sansa pulled back and kissed him on his burnt cheek. 

“Thank you, Sandor.” He held her tighter, savoring every moment, and kissed her temple. 

“Thank you, Sansa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'll actually add more chapters to this. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for commenting and liking "Into the Fray"! I hope this one is just as good, if not better, than that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor as been in Winterfell for a little over a week when things come to a head.

Sandor found Sansa in the Great Hall at the end of a meeting. He approached her as the others left and the ginger wildling gave him a knowing look. 

“I thought you hated gingers?” He asked.

“Fuck off.” He said as he walked past him.

Sansa was obviously upset and ignored the others as she walked off quickly. Sandor fell in behind her. He’d spent the morning with the armorer to get fitted for knew armor and a sword. Now he wished he had skipped it and was at the meeting. 

“Jon is leaving again. He’s going to see to the Dothraki and bring them back north. Arya, thank the gods, is leaving for who knows where. Probably King’s Landing. Jon’s just as unsettled as I am by her behavior so he’s sent her off to keep her occupied.” 

“Good. Your sister’s gone nearly craven. Don’t trust her.” Sandor warned her. Sansa had told her what she’d found in her room, the things she had said to her. He never thought the wolf-bitch would turn on her own family like that. She nodded her agreement with him. 

“How is your room? Is it warm enough?” 

“Freezing.” He wanted to make a joke about how she could warm him at night if she were so concerned but bit his tongue. Sansa turned her worried gaze to him. 

“Is it? I’ll have you moved to a room with proper heating. The fireplaces in that part of the castle need to be repaired.” She told him. “I’ll have your things moved at once.” 

“I don’t have any things, Lady Stark.” 

“Then it will be all the easier.” She joked. 

<<>>

After supper, Sandor was shown to his new room. A spacious one down the hall from Sansa with a fire blazing in the hearth. He guessed that it was once one of the Stark children’s rooms. Laying on his bed were clothes he desperately needed. He expected them to be too small but were, surprising, too big. He made his way to Sansa’s room, dressed in the new clothes.

“They don’t fit very well.” Sansa said, disappointed, when she looked up from the fur lined cloak she was working on. “I already have the seamstress working on clothes for you.” 

“Where did you get them? It’s rare I have to wear someone else’s clothes and they’re too big.” He joked as he took the chair opposite her. 

“I think they were Hodor’s.” 

“Hodor?” 

“You must remember him. The stable boy? The only thing he ever said was Hodor.” 

“Oh, right. I remember him.” He had done well with Stranger while they were there. Which was rare. The horse ignored him, mostly, which was the best any stable hand could hope for from him. 

“How is your new room?” She asked, genuinely hoping it suited him better.

“Much better.” He replied. “Those were someone in your family’s bedroom, weren’t they?” She nodded. 

“They were mine.” She said, turning back to her work. 

“Yours?” He asked. “That’s not where—”

“No.” Sansa cut him off. “I should have this finished in a few days. You look like a stray cat in that wildling cloak.” 

“You don’t have to make me anything, Sansa. You have better things to spend your time on.” He told her. It was ‘Lady Stark’ during the day. At night, he enjoyed calling her by her given name. Over the last week, she seemed to as well. He tried to use it as often as possible. Sansa sighed and lowered her stitchery. 

“Sandor, has no one ever told you were worthy of anything? Beyond your skills as a fighter. Has anyone ever done anything for you simply because they wanted to? Has anyone ever shown you kindness?” She asked him. 

“Who would show kindness to a old dog?” He didn’t look her in the eyes. He didn’t want to see the look on her face. He didn’t want to see pity. 

“You’re not an old dog. You’re Sandor Clegane. You’re a man. A soldier. You’re the closest thing to a true knight I’ve ever known.” Sandor laughed at that. “Don’t laugh! You were! You didn’t do anything for fame. You protected me because you wanted to, not because of my title or because I’m a woman.” 

“I kept you safe because no one else would.” 

“Exactly!” Sansa turned back to her work. “And I want to repay you for that. Not because it’s the polite thing to do but because I want to do something for you.” 

“You don’t have to.” She gave him a look that told him that she wasn’t going to discuss this any longer. She had made up her mind. He really shouldn’t say anything. He did need the clothing. It was coldest he’d been in his entire life. “What made you so upset this morning?” Sansa rolled her eyes.

“Just the ever present topic of my future marriage. I can’t escape it.” 

“You can. Easily. Just get married.” Sansa looked like she wanted to say something but decided to keep it to herself. “Who were they trying to pawn you off to now?” 

“Baelish.” 

“The fuck you are! That man is—” It would just be more of before for her if she married him. 

“I will never marry that man. I will never marry for political advantage if I can help it.” She confirmed. “How is the training with the small folk going? How is Gendry getting along with making you that sword?” 

“Fine, Sansa. I’ll be fully armed and armored by the end of the week.” He told her. “How are the food stores?” She sighed again. 

“I don’t even want to think about it.” She waved his question off. “I’m trying my hardest.” 

“You’re doing the best you can.” Sandor reminded her. They chatted for a little while. Talking about the plans around the castle. What was happening at The Wall. The strange things Bran was saying. What would happen in King’s Landing with Brienne. It was late when Sandor excused himself. 

“It’s late. You need your sleep.” He said as he stood up. 

“Good night, Sandor.” 

“Good night, Little Bird.” 

<<>>

“She needs to marry!” Baelish proclaimed. 

“She does not need to marry anyone.” Jon returned, looming over the great hall. “If she doesn’t want to, she won’t be forced. She’s doing a fine job running Winterfell on her own.” Sansa looked past everyone and locked eyes with Sandor for a moment before looking away. 

“Lady Sansa—” Royce started.

“Who will she marry? All of the men of the houses of the north are either dead or married. Should she go south? Marry the other Lannister? That’s the only other great house in Westeros that still stands!” Lyanna interrupted. “This is foolish. We have more important things to worry about.” Most of the hall showed their agreement with her and the topic was dropped. Sandor grinned. He really was starting to like this little girl. The topic went back to fighting the Others. Sandor shared a long look with Sansa, who was upset again. It made him furious. This woman had been through enough and she was doing an incredible job on her own. She didn’t need any man. 

When the group in the hall disperses, Sandor went to her, but Littlefucker beat him to her. He had his hand around her skinny arm, holding her there. 

“—It’s the best corse of action, Sweetling.” Baelish was telling her, trying to charm her. “I think they all agree. Even your brothers will, eventually.” 

“Let her go, Littlefucker or I’ll cut you in half.” Sandor warned him and Baelish let her go.

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing Clegane? Spending all your nights together, moving into the room down the hall, and taking your meals with her? I’m surprised. You never wanted status when we were at King’s Landing.” Sandor stared him down, crowding him. 

“I’ll fucking cut you in half, you cunt. Don’t ever touch her again.” Sandor warned him.

“My brother will never agree to this because he wants me to make up my own mind and I will not marry you.” Sansa said, her voice sharp and pinched. “Good day.” She turned to Sandor. “Sandor, I need to speak with you in my solar.” 

“Yes, my lady.” He nodded and followed her. 

“I can’t believe he brought that up in front of everyone!” She said as she closed the door to her rooms.

“He’s getting bold. The push to have you re-marry is making him play his hand.” Sandor told her, though she already knew this. Sansa was fidgeting. “You should make him leave.” 

“Or I should marry.” She told him. “My only option is a widower or an outsider. I don’t want to marry for—I want to make this decision on my own. I want someone who honestly cares about me but I want to stay a Stark. I’ll always be a Stark.” Sansa stopped pacing and came towards him. “Sandor…If I marry below my station I could keep my name.” He frowned, confused by what she was nervously trying to say. 

“What are you getting at, Little Bird?” She looked everywhere but his eyes. 

“I could marry you.” She finally said. His eyes went wide, shocked by her. 

“You don’t want that Little Bird, I’m—” 

“We talked about this when you returned. We care about each other. You’re strong and kind. I trust you more than anyone. That’s one of the most important things I want in a person.” 

“I’m an ugly, old dog. You’re beautiful and young. You can find someone who can be of better use to you and a lot better looking than I am.” 

“I don’t care about how you look! You’d never hurt me. You’d never lie to me. You’d treat me with respect.” Sansa shouted, her hands fisted in her skirts. “You’re the strongest fighter I’ve ever known. You went with Jon beyond The Wall. He would support this. He knows how much you mean to me.”

“And what would he do? Make it look like you’re a reward for fighting for him? For stopping you from killing yourself and that shit king after your father died? You’re worth more than that. You’re worth leagues more than that, girl.” 

“I’m not a girl anymore Clegane. You won’t frighten me with that.” She warned him. “Are you honestly saying you don’t want a chance to be with me? I know one day we could learn to truly love one another.” Sandor let out a loud laugh. 

“One day, she says!” He mocked her. “You don’t want me. You don’t want a ruined brute like me. I’d say the wrong thing and make you cry, just as I have before. Constantly. I’d make you wish you’d never met me. My face—”

“I don’t care about your twice damned face Sandor!” Sansa yelled at him and he went still and silent. “Joffrey had a pretty face. Ramsey was handsome. They were evil and sadistic. It doesn’t matter to me what you look like! It’s part of you, that’s all that matters, that’s all that I care about. You. I don’t care about the scars!”

“The hells you don’t!” 

“You’re more than your face Sandor!” Sansa pulled him down into a kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck. He was too shocked to move for a moment but when he realized what was happening it was like a force of nature. He held her and kissed her fiercely. He could feel her long, lean body against his and every part of him was begging to make this last, yet he knew he should let her go. 

“Don’t…don’t mock me, Sansa. Don’t make me part of this game.” He commanded of her. 

“You aren’t.” Sansa replied, tears in her eyes. “Please, Sandor. Let’s be happy for once.” 

“You honestly think that I would make you happy?”

“You already do. Just knowing you’re alive makes me the happiest I’ve been in a very long time.” Sandor sighed and kissed her gently one last time. 

“Is this what you really want? They’ll hate us for this. They all think you should marry a northern man.” 

“You already gave me your cloak, once.” She told him. “Just promise me you’ll think about it, please? I don’t want to force you into this.” 

“Aye, Little Bird. I will.” He told her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter right now. Let me know what you think of it!


End file.
